“I see you two already know each other,” Felix said with a smile.
Thea sucked in a breath. Anactualsmile. From Felix Walsh. It could be the first time she’d seen his teeth. They were pleasingly straight, but that wasn’t the point. He beamed, and the tiniest edge of her heart thawed at the warmth in his face as her daughter swamped his son.
Lucas grinned, too. This was quite the love-in. The two children held hands, and Ammy stared up at Thea.
“Mummy, can I show Jeffrey to Lucas? I’ve warned him about the farts.” Ammy’s brow furrowed. “I know he had cabbages for breakfast, so we might need to wear pegs on our noses.”
Thea had to giggle. Never shy in speaking her mind, Ammy could easily get a spot on the local comedy circuit. Thea glanced at Felix. He still had a grin on his face, but this time, he aimed his smile ather.Thea’s stomach knotted. In the thinafternoon light, his green eyes sparkled, and his face had taken on an almost boyish look.
“Who’s Jeffrey?” he asked.
“Pig,” Thea blurted out, the word sounding harsher than she expected.
Felix’s eyes tightened. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh! No, of course, you’re not, but Jeffery is. He’s our resident pig. Very popular. Has his own fan club at the school. He’s famous for his farts, so I’m told. He even gets his own Valentine cards.”
Felix scoffed. “I see. I hope he’s harmless?”
“Most of the time.”
She turned to her daughter, who was now hanging off Lucas Walsh. “Ammy, you can show Lucas around, but touch nothing dangerous. Don’t tease the animals, and remember, we’re having dinner soon, so try not to be too long.”
Impressed with the number of hints she’d dropped to keep the visit short, Thea turned back to Felix.
“Cup of tea?”
He shrugged. “If I’m not putting you out.”
“I’m just wading my way through a mountain of washing, but it can wait. Unless, of course, you’re good at folding? I can never get to grips with it myself. I always seem to create more creases than I start with.”
Felix raked his eyes over her baggy old T-shirt, and Thea pulled down on its hem, trying to flatten it out. Why was she feeling self-conscious? Normally, she wouldn’t give two hoots about her clothes, but he was a million miles from her thrift store finds with his fitted shirt and smart trousers.
“Come on in,” Thea said, beckoning him to follow her. “But watch your step.” She gestured at the mayhem on the carpet. “We’re waiting for the police to come and put the crime scene tape up. Take statements. My daughter is suspect number one.”
Thea ran her hands over Mr. Tibbins’ patchy fur as she walked. She didn’t dare look back. The judgmental look on Felix’s face would only make her cross, and she was determined not to waste any more energy on him than was necessary. Instead, she soldiered on through the chaos and led him into the kitchen.
“Take a seat,” she said, extracting the old knickers from her pocket and stuffing them into the bottom of the washing basket, along with Ammy’s rabbit. With a groan, she heaved it to the countertop near the window before flicking on the kettle.
By the time she turned around, Felix was already sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, his eyes scanning every detail of the cluttered room. The half-dead pot plants, the stacks of unread veterinary magazines, and the piles of dirty crockery in the sink. Particularly that. Thea died a little inside. Why hadn’t she washed up this morning?
Mercifully, the kettle boiled faster than she’d ever thought possible, and after pouring the tea, Thea sat down. Felix eyed his mug like she’d smeared it with the Ebola virus.
“It’s clean,” she said, an edge in her voice. “I have a busy life, so housework often falls by the wayside. Don’t worry. You won’t die.”
Hang on. Why was she feeling the need to explain herself to Felix Walsh? He probably hadan army of butlers to clean up after him. And if he had as much money as she suspected, who could blame him? Besides, some germs were healthy, according to the lady on morning TV last week. They were like tiny ex-boyfriends, teaching the immune system essential lessons and keeping it on its toes.
Felix took a sip of his tea. “I wondered if you’d avoided my emails. Most of them have gone unopened.”
Thea swallowed. Could he tell she hadn’t opened his emails?Crap. She’d have to do some research into being stealthier online. Damn digital footprints.
She hadn’texactlyavoided them but had asked Kitty to setup a special workflow in her inbox to send both his and Persephone Murray’s emails into a folder marked “The Vault of Doom.” In fact, she hadn’t spoken to him since the bakery. Just left a series of cryptic notes about tequila worms under his windscreen wiper. She and Daniel had devised the idea over a pint of cider.
“I’ve been busy,” she said, scratching at an imaginary mark on the old wooden table. “Farms don’t run themselves, and I’m often on my own. Your son seems lovely.”
Would he notice the swift change of subject? The old bait and switch? Just as she hoped, the sour look on his face softened, and the corners of his mouth ticked up.
“He’s a good kid. Shy. He seems quite taken with your daughter…”
